The Things I Loved About Him
by sweet-and-simple
Summary: "I prayed that he would burn in Hell, but in my heart I knew Hell would not have him." Castiel/Dean Gabriel/Sam last story of Happy Halloween


"_I prayed that he would burn in Hell, but in my heart I knew Hell would not have him."_

_~ Dr. Sam Loomis, Halloween 5: The revenge of Michael Myers_

_~::~_

"Listen, Dean, you can't trust him."

"Why the hell not?"

"Can't you _feel_ it? He's evil!"

"No more evil than _your_ boyfriend. Honestly, he destroyed my engine!"

He remembered that particular time. Gabriel had thought it would be… "cute" to put honey in Dean's car. Needless to say, he had paid for the repairs, which Dean had been in charge of.

"He doesn't know when to stop, I'll give you that much… but, _please_, listen to me. Break it up with him. He's dangerous, I just know it…"

"Do you have proof?"

"I – well – no… but I have a _feeling_."

"Well, gee-whiz, I remember that one time _I_ had a feeling. If I recall right, you got hooked on fucking drugs and a whore to go with them."

Castiel easily breezed into the room before fists could be thrown. Casually, he held up the three beer bottles for both brothers to see. "Octoberfest, anyone?"

~::~

Upon a dark and dreary day

While I went aimlessly about for a lay

I came across you crying

And I would be a terrible person for lying

If I said I did not think for a moment

Of having your legs open and…

Poems are not worth my time. Let me be direct:

Baby, I really just want to fuck you.

~::~

Imagine this, we are in the backseat of your car and you are angry at me, but I just do not care. You are raving about something and I am just thinking how great it would be to fuck that pretty pouty mouth of yours and you suddenly catch my drift and we are going at it hard. I spin you on your knees and now you have no control over what happens and I take this dildo out of my pocket and shove it up your ass so that you are getting ridden twice as hard.

You like the sound of that?

~::~

Where art thou?

Where thou should be. Waiting handcuffed in bed.

~::~

I have a secret message for you, baby.

.uoy epar ot tnaw I

It is just a fantasy of mine.

~::~

How gorgeous would you be in leather and nipple clamps?

~::~

I want to show you off to daddy. Again.

~::~

I want to _devour_ you.

~::~

Castiel had all of his notes tucked into an inconspicuous history book that was gathering dust along its binding. No one he ever invited into his apartment cared about their country's past and anyone who did was never over anyway. Or, at least, wasn't over for _long_.

He addressed his latest unsent letter to Dean Winchester and then tucked it away, never to be seen by the light of day. Only always by the gloom of night.

He plopped down on his futon and a shiver ran down his spin as his fake flesh split. His skin reddened and cloven hooves replaced his feet as a pointed tail flickered idly about his waist. Claws grew over his nails and large fangs dipped over his black lips.

He cracked his neck one way and then the other and horns popped out of either side of his forehead. "That is so much better."

With a thoughtful sort of expression, he snapped his fingers and his plain little hovel dropped seventy-two degrees and lost all sense of space. A foot became a mile and a league turned into an inch. It was all very confusing but still very amusing and he grinned toothily at the unreachable ceiling. His own little pocket of unbelievable. He enjoyed it greatly.

And then someone went and ruined it by knocking on his door.

"I will _skin_ whoever that is," he murmured lightly to himself, still grinning.

~::~

As it turned out, he wasn't allowed to.

Dean would have been very upset if he, well, skinned him. To be honest, he would be upset too. He rather liked Dean with his skin on, it was just the right kind of tan with the most amazing muscle tone.

He pressed his lover against the door and fucked his mouth with his tongue. "Did it not go well with your brother?" Dean growled and shoved away from the door only to topple to the floor with Castiel over him. "I will take that in the negative sense."

"Shut _up_, Cas, and just fuck me already, will you?"

He petted his hand down Dean's thigh. "Of course, Dean. Anything for you, Dean."

"Then _do_ it!"

"So demanding."

"You know you love it."

He all but purred. But that didn't fit his persona, so he turned the sound into a low hum. "You are right. That is _one_ of the things I love about you." Orders were orders though and Dean wanted to get down to business.

Clothes disappeared in a rightful hurry and, _finally_, Dean's mouth was where Castiel thought it useful, instead of running curses and sarcastic quips.

He tangled his fingers in Dean's short hair and pumped his hips steadily up past those pretty red lips. "Oh, Dean… Why must I have a second without this?"

His lover looked up at him wickedly and slurped around his dick. Castiel groaned and held Dean fast as he practically raped his mouth, not giving a damn if he was ready or not. Judging by his blissful expression, however, Castiel could fairly guess that he wanted this just as much.

His little masochist. He wasn't surprised.

~::~

"_Thus far, the state police are finding no correlation between the victims and have no leads as to who the South Dakota Carver could be…"_

Change the channel.

"_The latest killing in Sioux Falls! Victims Jo and Ellen Harville found with the serial killer's signature..."_

Change the channel. A special sort of heartbroken expression to accompany the moving thumb.

"_It's that time of year again, Halloween approaching, getting your houses ready for trick-or-treaters, and the South Dakota Carver is getting his blades ready for you!…"_

Change the channel. How many News channels were there?

"_This killer, after nearly three years, is still on the loose! The police aren't going to catch him, if it even _is_ a him. So you know what you need to do, the state of South Dakota? You need to lock your doors at night and pray, pray to _God_, that the South Dakota Carver doesn't choose you this Halloween to carve…"_

Sam shut off the TV and turned coldly to Castiel.

"What?"

"Where did you say you lived before you moved here?"

Castiel blinked innocently. "South."

"How far south?"

"Just south. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I don't know… It's just, it's rather _strange_ that we get a serial killer in this state the same time _you_ move in."

"I like you, Sam." He nodded solemnly. "You are very direct." He threw an unconcerned glance towards the kitchen where Dean was ordering pizza. "Sadly, you are also very mistaken. I am not the killer."

"No offense, but I think that's what a killer would say."

"Perhaps."

The conversation ended abruptly there as Dean charged into the room and landed face-up on Castiel's lap, legs thrown over the arm of the couch. "What are you two talking about?" He looked wearily between the two.

Sam shook his head and turned the TV back on, quickly switching it to AMC horror fest. "Nothing."

"Really?" He looked to Castiel for confirmation.

"Yes. We were in here, waiting patiently for you because we do not function without of your attention."

"_See_, Cas? You're getting better at sarcasm!"

He grinned. "Do I get a reward?"

Sam cursed and quickly evacuated the couch. He shouted something about going to Gabriel's as he slammed the front door shut behind him. Not that they were listening. How sad, that they really could never stop at just a kiss.

Riding Dean's ass, Castiel turned his head and watched Michael Myers slash at his niece. He grinned at how _unalike_ they were. Michael Myers was certainly tamer.

~::~

Castiel loved to ride Dean's ass into oblivion. He loved it when it was fucked wide open and he could pump his fist into that desperate hole. Having Dean pleading for him, his pleasure depending on Castiel, his body begging Castiel to treat it wrong in the _best_ way, it was… Well, it wasn't Heaven, they would kill him if they saw him. It wasn't Hell either. It was something much better than both.

What was the word?

_Sinful_.

He liked that.

But he didn't mind occasionally throwing his legs over Dean's shoulders and letting his lover give back some of his own. It wasn't their preferred positions, but there was always _intense_ gratification to come from it, having Dean balls-deep inside of him, fucking him like he had personally wronged their relationship.

Being bent over the kitchen table was exciting, in the least. He most certainly enjoyed this angle, maybe even took some shivering delight in Dean's hands pressing down between his shoulder blades to hold him the _fuck_ still as he went wild on his derriere.

What was even more exciting was having Sam and Gabriel walk in on them, completely unaware until they _were_ aware, and by then it was too late and Castiel had to turn his head the other way so they wouldn't see his smirk.

He wasn't exactly an exhibitionist. He just very much enjoyed scarring the young Winchester's mind. It was only an added bonus that Gabriel was included, but that was only because he knew no shame and Castiel enjoyed the company of such men.

He meant that in every sense of the word. Sadly, Sam was a one-man man. Gabriel, in love with him, had sworn himself off as a one-Sam man. What a pity. They could have had fun.

But he could settle for this and the horror that was clear in Sam's tortured voice.

"Oooh, Dean, _please_, harder…"

And Dean, wonderful sexy Dean, was not to be stopped because he was a _physical_ sort of being and his brother's complaints could obviously wait until they came. Which was another reason why he loved this Winchester.

Oh, how he loved Dean.

~::~

The kitchen fiasco didn't blow over well.

Castiel was waiting in the living room for either the brothers to stop throwing verbal fists or start throwing real ones as he sipped his Octoberfest and watched Jamie Lee Curtis run from Michael Myers like a little bitch.

Strange, how AMC played the entire Halloween series over and over and _over_ again… It would end on Halloween, though, so perhaps that was a good thing. Perhaps.

Gabriel, on his one side, winced in sympathy as Jamie Lee Curtis (her play name was Laurie Strode, wasn't it?) hid in the closet and Myers started ripping through it like paper. Then he laughed.

Castiel's fondness of him grew.

"She is _so_ hopeless. Oh, look! _Yes_, she got him with the coat hanger." His eyes twinkled. "But, _still_, in the closet?"

"And upstairs as well." Always upstairs. Why? He could never figure it out. All of these houses seemed to have a front door _and_ a back door. Why they didn't run out one while the other was being broken down, he would never know. Instead, they always went _up_ or _down_ like cornering themselves was going to save their lives.

They watched as she leaped off from the window onto the solid ground two stories below.

"Painful," Gabriel remarked apathetically. They took a unified drink of beer.

Companionable silence settled as the television screamed at them and Michael Myers continued to be a brainless hunk in a bluish jumpsuit.

"Sammy doesn't like you," Gabriel said rather suddenly.

Castiel pondered that as the movie credits rolled and the narrator warned them to stay put for the next Halloween movie. "I am aware of that."

"He thinks you're evil."

"I am aware."

"He thinks you're dastardly."

"I am aware."

"I think you're a freak."

"I am – pardon?"

"All your good English and proper manners. I bet you have a folder at home full of dirty notes."

That was so close to the truth that Castiel shined a new light upon his feelings for Gabriel. Kill or be killed. Dean was not going to be pleased with him.

"I bet you like S&M and do drugs and, _maybe_, you secretly live in a dumpster and the place you keep showing off to Dean is actually someone else's who's out of town."

It was that sarcasm thing again, wasn't it? "Why do you say that?"

He grinned easily and tapped a finger to his temple. "I know how good boys think, Cassy."

"My name –"

"Don't care. But I know how good boys think – and, in retrospect, I know how _bad_ boys think. You, my socially awkward friend, are _not_ a good boy." He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively and lifted his bottle in toast to him. "And I can drink to that!"

He tapped their beers together and sipped his Octoberfest calmly compared to Gabriel's chugging. How wonderful. A completely random, utterly infuriating, _pointless_ chat. He wondered why that had happ-

He watched Gabriel topple over and the three empty Octoberfest bottles on his side of the table went down with him as his arms swept broadly out. Maybe he was trying to fly…? Or perhaps he was hallucinating. Though he couldn't understand why he would be doing _that_.

"Oh." Imagine that. He had been drunk the entire time. "You hold your alcohol well." Gabriel just grinned in his drunken sleep. Castiel peered curiously up at the clock settled above the living room doorway.

Their arguments were definitely getting longer.

~::~

It was All Hallow's Eve and Castiel was feeling _confident_. Apparently, that was synonymous with _stupid_.

His first stupid mistake was opening his door.

His second stupid mistake was opening his door to _Sam Winchester_.

The man stared down at him and there wasn't a speck of warmth to be found in his gaze. Then again, he doubted he looked very welcoming himself.

"Can I come in for a second?"

That was his third stupid mistake. He should have shut the door in his face and told him to go home. But he didn't. He stepped aside and Sam came in, throwing a cautious look around.

"I do not leave my murder weapons out, thank you very much."

Sam looked sharply at him.

He smiled wryly. "A joke. Dean tells me I am getting better at them."

"Yeah… right. Better."

"I doubt you are here for a chat." He shut the door, locked it, and propped his hip up against the knob. "What do you want?"

He was rather awed by this man's confidence. Sam stood up to his full height (which was completely unnecessary because Castiel was still shorter than him when he stooped) and glared down at him with hellfire in his eyes. And Castiel would know all about hellfire.

"I want you to leave my brother alone."

"No."

Sam cursed beneath his breath and clenched his fists. Castiel wondered if he had actually thought it would be that easy. "You don't _get_ it, Castiel. I just want him to be safe and happy – and I look at you and I know he's not going to get any of those things."

"You do realize that he is older than you, right? He is fully capable of making his own decisions."

"But he's _not_!" He walked a nervous circle around Castiel's couch. "I mean, did he tell you about the four months he went missing three years ago?"

"Missing?" Oh, wait. "_Of course_, he _told_ me about going… missing."

Sam gave him an odd look but plowed on nonetheless. "He just went missing, up and vanished right after he was dumped, okay? I don't want him to do that again when you decide to move on."

"Who said I was going to move on?" And who said Dean vanished because of that girl? What had her name been? Castiel didn't care enough to try and recall. "I am rather happy where I am, with who I am with. I _have_ been with him for three years, have I not?" All over South Dakota too.

Dean had been restless. Castiel had been high off the freedom of being on the surface. They hadn't gone beyond the city lines, however. Dean would always get a phone call calling him back home before they ever got that far. Or for that long.

"Yeah, alright, I know –" something clicked inside that intelligent mind and Sam turned pale.

That was perhaps his fourth mistake, to let Sam think it through and realize a few obvious matters over the past few years.

Suddenly, he had a very docile Sam on his hands and he frowned as the younger Winchester looked submissively along the floor, shoulders slumped and hands in pockets. "You're right." He sighed and his relief was so fake that Castiel was honestly appalled by it. "You have been here with him for three years, I should trust you by now."

"You should." But he didn't.

Sam sat down heavily on the couch and put his head in his hands. "Maybe we can, uh, talk this over beer?"

This was a ploy to get him out of the room.

His fifth mistake was being cocky and letting himself fall for it, leaving the living room without a fight and entering his kitchen, having Sam just out of sight.

When he came back, Sam wasn't where he left him.

No, he was in his bedroom.

His sixth, and last, mistake was having his dirty little secrets hidden in an ancient history book with Sam Winchester, known bookworm and history-buff, in the same room.

He did rather enjoy the look of pure, undulated horror in Sam's expression, however.

The younger Winchester spun on him, shaking with rage and – Castiel took a gentle whiff of the air – a touch of fear. "You sick sonofabitch! You – you – you!"

"Yes, me. Now, please, those are private. Could you put them back?"

Sam took out a gun.

Okay, Castiel could live with that.

It was the Colt's colt, which, legend said, could kill anything.

That, he could most likely not live with. He wondered if Sam knew what power he was wielding and then decided it didn't matter as the Winchester began shooting.

Judging by how Sam was surprised when he turned up right in front of him, so close their chests grazed, he most likely had no clue what he was up against, at least. Castiel cupped Sam's face in both hands and, with a simple sort of grace, headbutted him.

Sam went down heavily, blood seeping out of his forehead. Castiel carefully tidied up his notes and put them in a different book. Now he had to make sure not to invite math-lovers over. Honestly, a high school teacher would be very pleased with his small library. Luckily, he knew no such people.

Except for Sam, of course.

He prodded the unconscious man none too gently in his side with the toe of his shoe. The body groaned pitifully but didn't wake up.

If he was lucky, not even he would be there in the morning.

_If_, luckily, was a very small if.

~::~

Castiel was sharpening a set of blades on a length of leather as Sam came to on his bed, naked but for four large straps securing him to the bedframe. "Sam," he acknowledged idly as he set the knives down according to size. "You slept right through midnight, so I suppose I should greet you with 'Happy Halloween'." He frowned. And then grinned manically. Sam began to struggle fruitlessly with his bonds. "However, I do not think this is a happy occasion. For _you_, anyway. And it is not quite Halloween when one is all by himself."

Casually, he stood to his feet and came to Sam's side, sitting down in the chair next to him. "So I took the liberty of asking Dean to come here for a… _surprise_."

"You sick bastard, leave him out of this!" Sam clenched and unclenched his fists, failing and yet trying again to possibly rip out Castiel's throat. "You love him, right? Don't hurt him, don't make him one of your victims."

Castiel sighed. The realization Sam must have come to earlier was only the apprehension that Castiel was indeed the South Dakota Carver. Considering the calm with which he had delivered his early-on accusations, Castiel wondered what exactly had changed.

Oh, right. Certainty. Once upon a time, Sam had just wanted it to be him because he wanted proof that he was evil. Now he thought he had proof and that could definitely be threatening.

At least he was pleading for Dean's life and not his own. How selfless. And useless. Completely useless.

"I told you once, I am not the South Dakota Carver."

"Liar!"

His front door opened and they both went still as they listened to the sound of footsteps approaching.

Dean entered and he was… such a dear, beautiful sight that Castiel got to his feet and stalked toward him. Dean watched him with hard, hard eyes and when they were close enough…

Yes, Castiel did smash Dean against the wall and begin kissing him furiously, hands dipping under his shirt to molest his chest and hips. Dean groaned and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, thrusting against his thigh, and Castiel smirked into his mouth as tongues sought and played like rascals.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean swiped his tongue over his wet lips and caught a trail of saliva. "Hey, Cas…" He affectionately ran his hand through his black messy hair. "Couldn't wait for tonight, huh?"

"Dean…" Sam had never before looked so unsure.

"Hey, Sammy!" The older Winchester did not seem in the least bothered by his little brother's position. As a matter of fact, he tromped right over and sat down on the edge of the bed, slapping Sam's shoulder in a camaraderie-sort of way. "I guess you're it for Halloween."

"W-what? Dean, what's going on?" His eyes widened. "If this is a prank, it isn't funny!"

"It's not supposed to be funny." Dean leaned back and frowned. "Not sure if I want you here, though. I think I might not be able to hurt you. You being my little brother and all."

Catsiel slipped an arm around his shoulders and slid his tongue over his ear. "I believe in you to overcome that."

"You really do?"

"Yes."

"Well then!" Dean clapped his hands together and smirked. "Where're my knives?"

"Dean!"

Dean growled and looked down at Sam. "_What_?"'

"What's wrong with you? Listen, Dean, I can get you help – whatever he's gotten you to do, it doesn't matter, okay? You haven't killed yet, you don't _have_ t-"

"You think _you're_ my first kill?" Dean was scrutinizing his brother with a half-offended grin. "Geez, Sammy, you don't honestly think _he's_ the South Dakota Carver, do you?"

"… What?"

Dean plopped down in the chair and sighed, looking weary and tired like a man who had had to tell the same story one too many times. "Listen, Sammy, three years ago I disappeared, right?"

Sam nodded mutely.

"You had no clue where I was, right?"

Another nod.

"I went to Hell. _Literally_. How I got there isn't important, just know that I spent about, oh, I don't know," he scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. "Cas, help me out here!"

"By Hell standards, he was there for forty years. As far as you are concerned, though, he was only gone four months."

"So, yeah. Some things happened, I _did_ some things, and then Hell didn't want me anymore. I left, Cas came with me, and here I am! Aw, shit, Sammy, why are you crying? You know how I hate the waterworks."

Castiel felt excitement tingle through his veins as he put a knife in Dean's hand and led it to Sam's skin. "I think he is done talking, Dean. He does not seem to want to say anything to you."

"Is that true, Sammy? Nothing to say to your big brother?"

Sam shuddered. "I'm sorry…" His eyes flickered with hatred for the briefest of moments. "I'm sorry I didn't notice that my brother was already _dead_."

"I'm sorry too."

The blade pinched Sam's skin and then slid into his flesh.

Sam screamed for Gabriel, for help, all out of _pain_.

And this was yet another reason why he loved Dean.

Castiel's skin split. Dean's didn't. After all, they would both be upset if they did anything to that wonderful body.

Castiel was fine with celebrating the bloodshed in his true form alone anyway. It made him feel honestly like the devil on Dean's shoulder, though he knew Dean needed no such thing. Forty years on the rack had taught him a few different things.

It taught him how to be _good_ at being _bad_.

~::~

He was staring at the greatest work of art ever before created. There were all sorts of marvelous colors – red, pink, blue, purple, white… _throbbing, living_ colors. Or had once been living anyway. They had once been _Sam_, but now he honestly couldn't tell where the man's face began and his mutilated dick ended.

Dean had never before so mutilated his victim.

Or been so horny afterwards. This had to be one amazing post-adrenaline rush for him, having killed and defaced his own little brother. Castiel couldn't have been prouder.

"C'mon, Cas, you've gotta fuck me _now_."

And he did, horns and tail and cloven feet and all. Dean had, after all, been in Hell and at the mercy of much uglier lovers.

Dean smirked and, covered in blood spatter and gore, held Castiel tight to his body as he was invaded brutally. "Happy… Halloween! CAS!"

"Happy Halloween, Dean."

_Author's Note: Sorry it's a day late. My inspiration was running low yesterday and, well, I had to do some things too. But rather late than never, hm?_

_This is the last story of the Happy Halloween 'Verse._


End file.
